


Cross

by boychik



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Drabble, Gen, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boychik/pseuds/boychik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fujisaki Chihiro passes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross

With trembling fingers he slips on the skirt. It’s made of cotton, smooth and soft and light against his freshly shaved legs. It’s plaid like a schoolgirl’s, blooming wide at the bottom like a milkmaid’s pinafore or a princess’s gown. Long dark cotton socks cover the spots where the razor slipped and he accidentally nicked himself. It was only a tiny cut and it didn’t sting too bad but the blood ran a lot before clotting. Shaving’s tricky the first time, but it will only get easier with time. That’s what Chihiro told himself as he traced over the red cuts on his shins and hiked his socks up to his knees.

Next is the shirt. Should he wear a bra? There’s one in the deepest darkest corner of his drawer, a light blue 32A with small white polka dots, rimmed with white lace. It’s been there for a while. He’s never worn it out of the house, only worn it once _in_ the house, felt the tightness of the straps sink into his shoulders. It was strange but comforting, staring down at his breastbone and the small cotton pockets gaping beyond his nipples. But no. It’s better to wear a coat the first time, right? He buttons his shirt (right for girls) then slips on a jacket, cut short under the chest and lined with a silky faux fur. Girls’ clothes feel so luscious after all those days, all those nights of uniforms.

He ties a scarf around his neck, just in case people notice the convex dent in his neck. Don’t want to give it all away. That would be ruin, not choosing a side properly. Chihiro slides on a wet layer of lipstick as a finishing touch. It is the scent and color of cherries, but doesn’t taste like it.

When he looks in the mirror, it’s the first time in his life that he looks pretty. He’s a pretty, pretty disappointment to everyone he knows. But it doesn’t matter now, does it? None of them will be able to recognize him now.

 

Chihiro runs upstreet to the market.

“I’d like a basket of eggs, please,” he says breathlessly. The skirt is liberating; it’s also frightening. The air blooms fresh around his legs. He can feel the quiet pinprick stares of men on the backs of his knees, his tiny waist, even his chest, ironically.

“I…only have this…” He proffers the bill, two-handed, to the cashier. Peers up from behind a swoop of caramelly bangs.

“That’s all right.” The cashier counts out the money for him. “One, two, three, four…see, it’s eighteen dollars.” And he beams at Chihiro. Chihiro counts sixteen shining teeth.

It’s disconcerting, being treated so…nicely. Is this what the life of a girl is like?

 

Later, Fujisaki Chihiro (♀) changes back into Fujisaki Chihiro (♂). It’s back to creased trousers and stiff black shoes and starched shirts closed with a tie. A man’s clothes. The clothes of a strong man. He feels like a traitor wearing them, like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.


End file.
